


if it was you

by septiplier500



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiplier500/pseuds/septiplier500
Summary: “Ya don’t have t’ tell me what’s wrong,” says Jack firmly, meeting Mark’s gaze with almost intense sympathy, “But ya can’t keep pretendin’ nothin’ is.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable version on Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/post/153877934397/if-it-was-you).

Water splatters constantly as Mark clutches the bathroom counter, leaning over to watch the water rain against the porcelain and swirl down the drain, heedless of its audience. Its innocuous sound does a decent job of covering up Mark’s short, tight sobs.

He lets himself shake for a minute that stretches into miserable timelessness, the muffled sound of his friends’ laughter in the hotel room beyond his closed bathroom door serving as a constant reminder that he can’t hide in here forever. He can’t fall apart on the second day of a con with most of his friends eating pizza ten feet away. He can’t.

And yet here he is.

Gritting his teeth, Mark shoves his hands under the sink spray and starts splashing water in his face, hoping the cold water will soothe his swollen eyes and flushed skin. He drags his fingers through his limp bangs, shoving the hair back out of his face, lifting his head to stare at his reflection.

“Jesus Christ,” he says under his breath, embarrassment flaring up to replace the anxious sadness. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He digs his heels into his closed eyes, grunting angrily when his desire to keep crying only gets worse. He desperately wants to just crawl into his bed at home and cry himself to sleep, like he hasn’t in… heh, a couple weeks. He’s a _mess_. He presses harder and laughs in a nasty, self-deprecating way, before giving up and looking for a towel to mop his face with.

When he finally leaves the bathroom, Jack is standing in the short space that serves as a go-between with the main hotel room, a second sink and a clothing bar – two of Mark’s coats hanging on the hotel’s provided hangers – being the only things occupying the space. Jack looks almost as apprehensive as Mark.

“You okay, buddy?” Jack asks, and there’s a nervous uncertainty to his crooked smile.

“Yeah, just spaced out scrolling my phone on the can,” Mark lies seamlessly.

Jack chews the inside of his cheek, darting a glance at the guys draped around with their pizza and beer. Mark almost asks him if he’s okay, but before he can fit the words in his mouth, Jack’s putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the bathroom.

“What the fuck?” Mark asks, trying to laugh, but the noise quakes uncomfortably close to a fresh sob. Jack lets him go and locks the door behind him. “They’re gonna think we’re in here boning,” Mark says, trying to tease, but it’s toneless.

“So let ‘em,” Jack says with a shrug.

Mark swallows, and his throat feels like splintered glass.

“Ya don’t have t’ tell me what’s wrong,” says Jack firmly, meeting Mark’s gaze with almost intense sympathy, “But ya can’t keep pretendin’ _nothin’_ is. I don’t wanna step on yer toes, man… I jus’ wanna let ya know I’m here, if ya wanna talk about it. Or not talk about it.”

“I’m good” falls out of Mark’s mouth with painfully obvious ease.

Jack winces. “No yer not,” he says, so fucking softly.

“ _Fuck you_ , Jack,” Mark snaps, and the Irish Youtuber flinches again, but Mark just laughs bitterly and covers his face with his hands. “Jesus. Am I that obvious?”

Jack hesitates, hands in loose fists at his sides and his left foot fidgeting on the tile floor. “Dunno,” he admits, avoiding having to lie, and cracks a half-smile. “It’s probably only obvious ta me cos I practically stalk ya.”

“Gee, thanks,” says Mark, combing his fingers through his hair, “Glad I could share this tender, pathetic moment in my hotel bathroom with my secret stalker.” He leans his ass against the edge of the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head back to feign casual and hide the fact that his eyes are getting damp again.

“S'okay if ya don’t want ta talk ta me,” Jack murmurs. Mark can still hear his sneaker scuffing the floor. “I just wanted ya t’ know I’m here if ya need me. Always am.” He swallows hard enough for Mark to hear it over the continued ruckus outside. “All of th’ guys in there are, too, really – ya don’t have t’ hide from us. Cos I know if it was _me_ blubberin’ in here, ya know you’d tell me th’ same.”

Mark exhales through his nose, smiling even though he’s crying. “I’d probably tell you to stop being a little bitch.”

“No ya wouldn’t,” Jack says firmly, “Not when it counted.”

Mark swallows and looks down from the ceiling, letting Jack see the wet mess of his face, grin ripe with self-loathing. “No?” he asks, his voice trembling, “Then what would I do, Jack? _Huh_? What would I do if I found one of my friends bawling their eyes out in the bathroom like shitty indie movie?”

Jack steps forward, gripping Mark’s arms and pulling them out of their tight fold on his chest; when they’re out of the way, he lifts his own arms and wraps them around Mark’s shoulders, lifting up just slightly on his toes so their bodies can fit together comfortably. Shock sears through Mark like a cold wind, but it’s immediately replaced by a burst of warmth that starts in his chest and floods outward, bubbling up out of his mouth in a sob. He clutches Jack back, burying his face in the other man’s dyed hair, smothering out the worst of his choked gasps.

“ _It’s gonna be okay_ ,” Jack promises, “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be _alright_ , Mark. Just got t’ let it all out. Let it all out an’ _breathe_.”

Mark laughs even as he cries, letting Jack rock them both just a little. “This is so lame,” he insists, but his voice is hoarse, sobs still crawling their way up out of his throat. He nuzzles into Jack’s hair in spite of himself, soaking in his friend’s calm warmth. “And kinda gay,” he adds under his breath, chuckling wetly.

“Only if I tried comfortin’ you by kissin’ you,” Jack says, chuckling and rubbing the back of Mark’s neck. “An’ even then, it’d be bi,” he amends thoughtfully, “Though I kinda like pan fer myself, feels more open.”  

Mark draws back, staring at Jack in brief wonder. He swallows, and before he can stop himself, he leans his face down, pressing his lips against Jack’s. The salty tang of tears and whatever else Mark’s been leaking down his face makes the kiss wet and bitter, but Jack doesn’t stop him, moving their mouths together with aching gentleness.

When they part, Jack’s smile is crooked again. “M'not sayin’ no,” he says, and Mark feels the cold wind in his chest again. “But we should probably leave all that fer after. Cos as romantic as it is makin’ out in a hotel bathroom while yer fella’s cryin’ his eyes out an’ yer mates are a stone’s throw off,” he pauses to grin, and the frigid burn in Mark’s chest starts to thaw, “It doesn’t change th’ fact that somethin’s wrong, an’ it won’t stop bein’ wrong just cos ya got frisky wit me.”

Mark swallows and nods, glancing away. “Alright,” he says.

Jack doesn’t step away, his hand still rubbing circles on the base of Mark’s neck. “I’d like it if ya tried talkin’ about what’s wrong.”

“Alright,” Mark says again, and takes a deep breath.

He exhales slowly, and starts to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> If you _liked_ this fanfiction, punch that kudos button in the face! ;) 
> 
> And as always, I will see you... on [Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/).


End file.
